


Heartbeat

by incubitch



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Angst, Established Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Nightmares, Post-Dragon Age: Inquisition - Trespasser DLC, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-06
Updated: 2019-10-06
Packaged: 2020-11-25 17:42:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 634
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20916023
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/incubitch/pseuds/incubitch
Summary: A pitiful sight, he must be, so far gone from Thedas’ perception of him.





	Heartbeat

**Author's Note:**

> This funky lil drabble is a few months old I just never posted it eheheheh. I've been having rly bad block for the past few months so I haven't been able to find the motivation to write anything new I am sorry gamers

_ He is running, kicking up dust and soot as he navigates the unfamiliar terrain. _

_His lungs are dry as sand and he struggles to breathe, overexertion causing his heart to hammer and his vision to turn fuzzy at the corners. _

_Something is chasing him, whether it be a mob of angry Orlesians or a temperamental dragon—he honestly doesn’t know which is the more preferable of the two. _

_The village around him is charred, only the bare bones of once great structures remain. He hears a child crying in the distance, he tries not to step on the corpses that litter the ground. _

_He couldn’t save them. _

_He couldn’t save this village, just as he couldn’t save Haven. Just as he couldn’t save Hawke. Just as he couldn’t save his clan. Just as he couldn’t save Solas… _

_He couldn’t save--_

-

“Amatus!”

Reality hits him like a splash of cold water. He shoots upright, chest heaving with painful breaths, gagging on his own saliva. He coughs once, twice, and then his coughs turn into dry sobs; he feels like he is slipping away, even as his eyes begin to focus on his familiar surroundings.

There is a hand on his back, rubbing up and down the bony length of his spine. There are hushed reassurances being whispered. He can feel the softness of his bedclothes-- a stark contrast from nights spent crammed in tents, camped on battlefields, huddled around weak fires and rationing out bits of roasted nug.

“Breathe, Amatus.” He dares a look at his bedmate, just to be positive that they are still safe.

To his relief, nothing changed since they laid down to sleep. Dorian was still handsome and intriguing, his brilliant amber eyes studying him with concern. This wasn’t the first time they’d been in this situation, and it wouldn’t be the last. The nightmares were violent, awful things that clawed their way into his consciousness and seemed to be hellbent on torturing him for the rest of his life.

“I’m sorry.” Is all he can say, over and over until the words have lost their meaning.

Dorian reaches a hand out, hesitantly brushing the sweat-matted hair from the inquisitor’s face and urging him to make eye contact. When he does, his cries only become more intense.

A pitiful sight, he must be, so far gone from Thedas’ perception of him.

“May I hold you?” Dorian asks, carefully.

He nods, wordlessly moving to lay his head on Dorian’s bare chest. The sound of his partner’s steady heartbeat is almost enough to put him at ease right away. He feels the hand on his back once again, the sudden contact causes him to startle for a moment before he realizes that he is safe. And he is, truly, safe.

“I’m so tired, Vhenan.” He finally admits, weakly, the unsteady timbre of his voice causing him to clear his throat.

“I know, my love.” Dorian presses a lingering kiss to his temple, bringing the blankets up around them both. “I can assure you that, if you do fall asleep, I will be right here when you wake up.”

He shuts his eyes a little tighter. “How can you promise me that, after everything we’ve been through?”

Dorian lets out a breath that is almost a laugh. “I’m still here, aren’t I?”

He doesn’t need to refute this response with anything, because, miraculously, Dorian _is_ still here. With a snap of the mage’s fingers, the lamp goes out, and the room is dark once again.

_Thump-thump-thump. _Dorian’s heartbeat is steady and strong, his breathing is even.

The fade is kind for the rest of the night; perhaps Dorian is with him in some capacity, protecting him from wraiths and shades. More importantly, Dorian is with him when the dawn comes, as he always is.


End file.
